Page 34 of Disavowed

“I’m not a cop anymore.” His eyes hardened. “I got fired.”

“What?” She took a step toward him, then stopped. She’d been hit with the urge to comfort him, which was ridiculous under the circumstances.

He shrugged. “I did some stupid things, and they finally caught up with me.”

“I don’t believe it.” And she didn’t. From everything she knew about him, something didn’t add up.

“Believe it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t.” The anger she felt toward the NYPD for firing Dom was misplaced. She shouldn’t care one bit what happened to him. It was just that it didn’t make sense. Neither did the compassion she felt.

You have to stop this. Get him out of your life once and for all.

She stalked to the door, feeling the heat of his gaze burning into her back. “I want you to leave. Now.” She yanked open the door.

He cursed, then rose from the sofa and met her at the threshold. She couldn’t take the softening of his gaze as he looked down at her so she stared at her toes. But she couldn’t stop breathing in whatever it was about him that always smelled so good. Cologne, aftershave, something fresh and clean. She exhaled, wishing she could permanently eradicate whatever connection they had, knowing it was impossible.

Please, please, please leave.

Her vision blurred, and she blinked back the tears. She had half a mind to shove him out the door, but he was at least two hundred pounds of solid male muscle. That, and she had a bad feeling that in her pathetically weakened state of mind she shouldn’t touch any part of that hard body again or risk doing something stupid.

When he reached out and cupped her cheek, a warm current shot down her neck, to her breasts, and straight to her toes. She closed her eyes, unable to meet his. To round out her humiliation, a trickle of tears leaked from her lids.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Then he was gone.

Daisy didn’t open her eyes until she felt the shift of air in his wake. She remained rooted at the open doorway, her hand trembling where she gripped the knob. Dom’s booted footfalls echoed in the hallway, followed by the click of the stairwell door.

A lump formed in her throat, and the bone-deep loneliness she’d been experiencing lately returned in spades. As much as she’d been tempted by his touch, she couldn’t go through that again. She wasn’t strong the way people thought she was. That was part of the false image she’d learned to project long ago after her own family—or what was left of it—had thrown her to the curb. That outer strength had stood her well, until the one night she’d spent with Dom. A night that felt like coming home.

With still-trembling fingers, she closed the door, then turned the deadbolt and inserted the security chain. She’d really thought there’d been something between them. Big mistake. Tonight had not only reopened a wound inflicted by one man a year ago but wounds inflicted by her family after her parents had died.

How can I ever trust my instincts again?

It had taken half a lifetime to come out of the emotional shell she’d hidden behind as a teenager and another half to create a persona she could hide behind. To this day, she still used laughter and flamboyancy to mask the pain that she might be alone for the rest of her life. She had so much love to give and no one to give it to.

She leaned back against the door, slowly slid to the floor, and wept.

Chapter Nine

Dom stared up at Daisy’s curtained windows on the third floor and jammed his hands into his pockets. Fuck. All he ever seemed to do was hurt her. He didn’t blame her for being angry. He’d practically attacked her like an animal in rut.

I was out of line and out of control.

Jack’s presence in her life was unacceptable from every imaginable angle. The man was an assassin. A cold-blooded killer. As fucked-up as it was, that wasn’t his first thought when he’d seen him follow her up the stairs.

Every second Jack had been in Daisy’s apartment, he’d tortured himself by imagining the two of them together, making love in her bed. After Jack had left and Dom had gone inside, he’d been overcome by the mother of all primitive Neanderthal instincts to erase the other man’s touch from Daisy’s body. Hell, he’d wanted to possess her.

Make her mine.

He stood on the sidewalk, watching until the light went out in her living room before heading to his Explorer. What a clusterfuck.

After he yanked open the driver’s side door he dropped onto the seat and gripped the wheel. He had to put aside his personal issues and focus on Daisy’s safety. He wondered if he’d made the right decision in not telling her exactly who and what Jack really was.

She already knew what the Pyramid was. A year ago, when they’d threatened Alex and Nicky, he’d rammed the point home as to how dangerous they were. Daisy would never be able to act natural around Jack if she knew the truth, and Jack would become suspicious. But leaving her alone with the guy would worry his gut into a tank-size ulcer. He had an idea how to fix that little problem, although Daisy would probably have a conniption. Hell, he didn’t know how he’d get through it, either.

He punched in the number of the police dispatcher, preparing to give his shield number and request database information on Daisy’s driver, Gus Padagno, but he ended the call before it was answered. Shit. Dispatch wouldn’t give him anything. He was no longer officially employed by the NYPD, and they would already have been advised of his status. From this point forward he was persona non grata.

As he started the Explorer he cued up Gray’s number. It was around eleven o’clock, but this couldn’t wait.